Dear Happiness
by papiersam
Summary: Kanji, Rise, and Naoto, and their messy college social life - which gets even messier when they collide. Somehow, though, they'll figure it out. AU.
1. Chapter 1: College Coffee

Chapter 1: College Coffee

* * *

With two minutes to the 7 am class, he carelessly emptied all 437 milliliters of energy drink into his coffee cup and stirred the two together like wine before putting the lid back on.

"I'm gonna die," he muttered to himself before draining the entire blend in one swing.

Naoto watched with a sort of removed fascination. She had to agree, though: if the caffeine overdose didn't kill this boy, the midterm next week would.

Either way, she didn't care.

* * *

 _Chopin's Ballade No. 1 in G minor, Op. 23._

Naoto kept to a lullaby pace, barely touching the keys.

Not that all of them really worked — tapped or smashed or otherwise — and that really ruined the peaceful immersion, but Naoto was, if nothing else, resourcefully adaptive.

Which translated to 'having a penchant for ignoring things'.

She was also something of a tinker, and that part of her quietly ran through the mechanics of the piano parts as she played, running between crystallised rubber grommets to loose jacks and hammers and worn-out springs to—

"H-hey, man?"

For all the slowness and softness she had been playing with, the room went surprisingly quiet when Naoto stopped and looked up at the boy who interrupted her.

Who looked utterly scandalised at being looked at—though, he looked like many things. A biker, with face and ear piercings, bleached slick-back hair and skull tank-top; a misfit, standing tall at maybe six foot with a slouch that, from Naoto's standpoint, seemed more like he was looking down on her; a survivor, for not dying last week from the Monster Coffee (as Naoto had dubbed it, not that she had given the incident a second thought whatsoever).

But for now, he looked like a schoolkid on the first day. "S-sorry, man. Jus' looked like you fell asleep while playing, tha's all. Which would've been cool, too, I was jus'…"

Naoto levelled him with a bored stare, only half listening to him. The rest of her just wanted to be left at peace again, except for a small part of her that wondered if he survived in part because of his sheer mass, because there was _a lot_ of him, a lot of him that was standing awkwardly and—

Right, conversation. Naoto always got this part wrong.

"I assure you, I was awake."

The boy almost jumped at hearing her speak. "C-cool! Yeah, I knew that, I jus'…" he trailed off with a halfhearted shrug.

Silence settled in again, with Naoto waiting for him to leave; there wasn't anything to add to the conversation, and she didn't want to start playing again with someone watching. She felt their exchange had accomplished its purpose, and served another no further.

Naoto, more or less, was as technical and to the point as a needle.

Still, while the boy looked like he wanted to leave, he instead stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the piano keys. "So, what're you doin' here on a Saturday, playin' all alone?"

"Precisely that," Naoto replied, curt by wont. Though the upright piano in the lobby sounded like something picked up off the curb and the acoustics therein were abysmal, the area remained peacefully empty: students weren't likely to be on campus on a Saturday evening after midterm week, and the blissful loneliness was just how Naoto liked things.

Which brought her back to waiting for the boy to leave, with no fruition.

"Tha's cool, dude. I was jus' hangin' 'round, saw you playin', recognized you from a couple classes and thought I'd, y'know..?" He pulled a hand out of his pocket and waved it uselessly.

"Ask if I were asleep, as you mentioned." Naoto was equal parts annoyed and impressed with herself for having the conversational aptitude to keep her company around for so long. She was definitely going to write this down in her logs as a social accomplishment.

The boy, however, seemed mostly disquieted. "Y-yeah. Um." He breathed in through his nose loudly, bracingly, and threw his hand at Naoto, nearly smacking right into her—maybe, Naoto thought, if he had bothered to _look at her as he spoke_. "Kanji. Er, Tatsumi. Kanji Tatsumi."

Naoto was taken aback a moment; at both the boy's — Tatsumi Kanji — attempt at formality, which was an appreciated form of respect from her despite his obvious lack of sophistication, and at the gesture itself. Sure, they were classmates — according to him, but she wouldn't have noticed outside of the Monster Coffee incident – but introducing himself meant—

Meant what? He wanted to know her name? Wanted to know more about _her_?

She nearly scoffed at the thought. It was a formality, a simple social gesture, nothing more.

She would return it in kind.

She stood up, absently smoothing out her shirt, and straightened— _not_ because she suddenly felt ridiculously short in front of Kanji. With practiced decorum and a hint of pride, she introduced herself.

"Shiragane Naoto." She shook his hand once, firmly.

A few moments passed, and Naoto waited stiffly for Kanji to withdraw from the handshake — he was the one who initiated it, it would be a sign of impatience and insult to draw back first.

Kanji stared at their hands for about three seconds longer before, as if suddenly realizing he was on fire, wrenching his hand away and rubbing his palm against his pants.

"Y-y-psh, yeah, cool, man. S'cool name, that. Naoto. Haven't heard it. 'S cool." Kanji sputtered on like a broken water faucet. "Your last one, too. Sh-Shiragane. Sounds fancy an' posh an' all."

Naoto dropped her abandoned hand to her side, and watched Kanji stammer more than she listened. All things considered, this Kanji left her unimpressed: his colloquy skills were worse than hers, as clunky and awkward as the way he held himself, and his continued acquaintance offered her no benefit.

Though, he had lived through the caffeine concoction, and probably more than that once. He was resilient, she could concede, but in Naoto's professional experience, that mostly added up to stubbornness.

And stubbornness, in Naoto's professional experience, was childish.

"Well, Tatsumi. I should take my leave." She bowed her head just slightly, and couldn't see his expression over the brim of her hat, but she heard his faltering, disappointing — disappointed? — response before turning and walking away.

* * *

Kanji felt tremendously stupid, watching her walk away.

Well, he usually felt pretty stupid, but every time he tried to talk to a girl — because, y'know, that's what college guys did – he reminded himself of how far his stupidity could go.

Yeah, well, people who invited him to college parties and left him alone while they got along with everyone else there were stupid, too.

Like the devil, Rise strutted up to Kanji, hands clasped behind her back. She gave him that winning smile of hers — closed and wide, outlined with pink lipstick under bright eyes — and, when she was a little closer than anyone else dared to come, lifted herself onto her tiptoes.

"Struck out, huh?"

"Wasn't anything like that!" Kanji bit out, scowling down at her.

"Oh, loosen up, Kanji-kun." She dropped down and took a half-step back. "It's a party, not a board meeting."

Kanji shrugged. "Pretty bored, meeting people who can't even pretend to keep up a decent conversation."

Rise giggled — the sound of bubbles, tickling when it popped at the lightest touch — and shot him a thumbs up. "Nice one!"

Despite himself, Kanji smiled. "Yeah, well, I try."

Which was only because his new roommate — a foreign, blonde and blue eyed oddball who had a weird obsession with being a stud — went and took any chance to make bear puns. The dude also carried a blue and red bear suit of all things, which Kanji still couldn't figure out, and was thus far not allowed to touch.

Really, all things considered, Kanji wasn't much of a funny guy, and his interests were hopelessly limited to boring things like sewing and crafting, but he still had a penchant for wordplay; it always fascinated him how lost he could get by just words.

Naoto Shiragane used really big words.

Hell, Shiragane sounded like a big word. Sounded all high class, like Naoto dressed.

Well, dressed and acted and sounded. The way he stood and walked — straight as an arrow, guy could probably balance books on his head while he strolled about — and the way he dressed — dress shirts, collar high and crisp, ties, and those uncomfortably prim pants — down to the way he spoke — witty words spoken with brittle confidence that somehow sounded as soft as yarn — marked Naoto as one of those refined guys that Kanji just couldn't _stop_ noticing.

Wasn't his fault; Naoto just stood out, somehow — everything seemed to be a _somehow_ with that guy. He didn't really ever speak to anyone at all, and only answered the prof when called on.

But that was different, and that's why it stood out. Kanji kind of liked how quiet Naoto was, made him feel a little less alone, _somehow_ — dammit — to know that someone else was just as distant from everyone else, just as different.

Kanji's eyes wandered, and the tips of his ears burned when they suddenly landed on Naoto Shiragane.

The guy was supposed too good for parties, and _dammit,_ there he stood, up and dressed all party-casual; tucked in, white dress shirt under one of those checkered sleeved sweaters— _damn_ , that was some quality looking fleece — and frickin' beige _trousers_ that should have clashed with his blue paperboy hat but _didn't_.

Kanji hated how good it looked on Naoto; he'd dressed formal for the occasions he had to, like his old man's funer— no, like at the interview he had to do to get into the college, but the pants were scratchy and the shirt was too big, and all together he looked like an amateur actor playing a father, as Rise put it.

"Kanji, you're not listening!" Rise yelled — the music picked up at some point in his musing. "What are you…"

In his peripheral vision, Kanji saw Rise turn her head as she went silent. A few moments went by the three of them.

"Whoa," Rise finally breathed, leaning forward and gazing. "He's _handsome_."

"Yeah," Kanji agreed, equally entranced. They stood staring for a few seconds more before they simultaneously looked at each other, blankly, and Kanji _jumped_ and sputtered a rushed, "Y-yeah, you'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Rise kept her stare on him a little longer before giving him a small smile. "Yeah, he's _totally_ cute. He's the guy you keep talking about, right?"

Kanji blanched. He couldn't have said anything, he just learned the dude's name last week! "Wh-what guy?"

"Y'know, smart and classy guy from all your classes." Rise turned to look back at Naoto, but Kanji refused to follow and instead glared at her growing grin. "And I totally agree; he's got that sophisticated vibe. I bet he's got one of those European accents."

"No, but he uses all those huge words you'd find in a thesaurus and his English is all perfect." Well, as far as Kanji and his inadequate English could tell.

Rise hopped upright and squealed. " _Ooh_ , I dig a guy who speaks English. I'm gonna go talk to him."

"W-what?" Kanji barely managed before Rise skipped ahead. He stayed rooted until Rise reach a few paces short of Naoto, watched her slow down to a swaying, leg-over-leg strut, and took a few tentative steps of his own, stopping close enough to intrusively listen to their conversation.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around before," Rise practically sang, and Rise could sing like a siren.

Naoto's gaze shifted from the party's discord to Rise, expression looking just a little tight. "I only just arrived. I don't usually attend these sort of events, but I'm here to honour the invitation of an acquaintance."

Kanji felt himself tense up; Naoto was great with words, but he never spoke so...excessively, especially about himself. Maybe, probably, it was because he was talking to beautiful, popular Rise, and everyone wanted to talk to Rise.

Something about Naoto being like everyone in some wayrubbed Kanji all wrong.

" _Aww_ , that's so gallant of you," Rise purred — the music took that moment to slow down to a fading transition — and glided closer. "People just aren't like that anymore, y'know?"

If Naoto noticed the space between them close, he certainly didn't show it. "People vary."

Rise nodded. "Yeah, they do. But there need to be more people like you…" She tipped her head, humming off.

Naoto didn't miss a beat. He held out his hand. "Shiragane Naoto."

"Kujikawa Rise." She took his hand with a wink, and certainly took her sweet time letting it go.

Kanji riled at that: not Rise's flirting, but at how _easily_ Naoto had surrendered his name. Kanji practically had to _beg_ for it.

The music picked up, a grunge-pop tune with a beat Rise swung into smoothly. "I love this one. Dance with me?"

For the first time ever, Kanji saw Naoto hesitate to answer. The dude was _never_ off his guard, was _never_ indecisive about any situation.

But, then again, Kanji had never seen Naoto talk to a girl who sang at bars and danced in the rain and got everyone she ever wanted. Maybe, when it came down to it, Naoto was like other guys with other girls. Couldn't fault him for it. Couldn't figure out why he should have.

Finally, Naoto shifted on his feet. "I'm afraid I've only experience in ballroom dancing in more formal settings."

Rise perked at that, still swaying. "Oh, really? Ballroom dancing?" Her eyes dropped to a half-lidded gaze. "What other surprises are you hiding from me?"

It may have been a trick of the low light, but Kanji saw something in Naoto's expression stiffen. "Many things."

"Mysterious," Rise hummed. She eased out of her dance, eased closer to Naoto, eased her arm around his. "Then we should talk more about you over some drinks."

Rise pulled Naoto ahead, weaving between people as smoothly as she weaved into people's minds. Before dissolving into the crowd completely, she winked at Kanji. Naoto just kept his focus on Rise the whole time.

Probably didn't even know Kanji was there. Probably didn't even care.

Kanji stuffed his hands into his pockets and glowered, scaring off someone who chose that moment to look in his direction. He really didn't have a reason to be as pissed as he was, but maybe Rise shouldn't be leaving him alone like that.

Dammit, this was stupid. Parties, people, Naoto, Rise. Naoto and Rise, that was stupid, too. They were stupid.

He kicked at the floor and glared at the crowd once more before turning and walking away.

* * *

 _A/N: And here we go with a short, maybe 6-chapter story about these three trying to work out the concept of friendship (together, but against their wills), when none of them are really any good at it._

 _Leave a review; I'd love to hear from you!_


	2. Chapter 2: Lost & Found & Friends

Chapter 2: Lost and Found and Friends

* * *

"And he's _such_ a good listener, too: he's got that intense look, y'know? Like Nick Jonas."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and he's totes a gentleman: asks how I'm doing, calls me just to say hey, holds my bags."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, he's the full package: smart, kind, and a total _dream beau_."

He wasn't funny, Kanji thought. But maybe only high school girls liked funny, and college girls with a future in sight liked serious and dependable.

Rise knocked on her window and waved to get Kanji's attention. "Kanji-kun!"

He held his phone away from his ears; Rise had _lungs_ , made her a good singer and an even better screamer.

Waving through his window at her — a car driving between their houses on the road below — he brought the phone back to his head. "S'not my fault. Ain't no fun listening to you go on about a guy for hours."

"But this time it's a guy we _both_ like!"

"I don't even know him!" Kanji snapped.

Rise stared at him, deadpan. Then, she breathed against her window to fog it and began to draw. "You've known him longer than me."

"Just saw him around class," Kanji muttered darkly, because that was precisely it: just seen him in class, usually when he mustered the courage to sit two rows behind him. "You've been spending the last week with him."

"And it's been _great_ ," Rise sighed, drawing an arrow through the heart. "You should really talk to him."

Kanji snorted, fogging up his window glass a bit. "Dumb guys like me don't got nothin' to say to smart guys like Naoto."

Finished with her art piece—she wrote three English letters inside the heart that looked backwards from Kanji's perspective, not that he was good enough at the language to figure them out anyway—she leaned her back against the window pane. "You should come hang out with us tomorrow night."

"That'd be intruding." Not to mention Kanji was awkward as hell.

"No, I'd really like it. Besides," she winked at him. "Every couple needs an awkward third wheel."

Kanji made an obscene gesture at her, but she only laughed in response.

"So it's settled. Meet us in the piano room at 7, 'kay?" And before Kanji could refuse, she hung up, blew him a kiss, and drew the blinds closed. Shortly after, he saw the lights shut off and, with a scowl, put his phone and continued working on his tiny felt hat.

His tiny _blue_ felt hat, but only because he only had blue felt. Well, not entirely, he had other felts, but they weren't fit to work with and anyway he wanted to work with the blue felt.

Kanji huffed. He didn't have to explain himself to...well, himself. And Rise could be however she was with anyone she wanted, didn't matter to him, didn't need any explaining either.

His eyes wandered to the window, and his mind to the arrow-heart.

Rise wasn't stupid. Her English was pretty good; she sang in it.

Right, her stage name, Risette. That's what she wrote: Naoto's initials and the first English letter for Risette, whatever it was. Three letters.

Kanji returned his focus to the hat. Crossover stitch, watch the lining—

He just wanted to _talk_ to the dude.

Kanji stopped working again and stared at the hat.

No, that wasn't exactly it. There was more, he could admit that.

He wanted to talk to Naoto, yeah, but he wanted to hang out, too. Like people did. And Naoto looked just as bad at peopling as Kanji was, and that was comforting. Other people were frightening, either frightened of him or disappointed when he wasn't a tough bike thug.

Sometimes, that disappointment became teasing. Mostly, it became exclusion.

So, yeah, Naoto seemed like the cool kind of upper class dude that was surprisingly nice when he wasn't being frigid. And yeah, it was hell mustering the courage to talk to him, but Kanji had a feeling that Naoto could be easy to talk to. Rise had said as much.

Rise had said other things about Naoto, too. Kanji had a hard time not agreeing.

Rise had also said they'd be waiting for him. It might end up being awkward, but so was he. And hey, if he was invited, it wasn't a date.

Maybe none of them were.

Kanji snorted and looked back at the hat. Maybe he would arrive, just to mess with Rise. Plus, he hadn't hung out with her in a while, and annoying as she liked to be to him, she was still the easiest person to talk to.

Hey, maybe she would be just the bridge Kanji and Naoto needed. To get along. To hang out.

Kanji sighed, but not unhappily. People were complicated. Connecting was hard. Naoto was interesting. Rise was beautiful. Kanji?

Well, Kanji was lost.

* * *

"Where is Rise Kujikawa?"

Except he didn't phrase it like a question, more like a statement. Something one of them knew the rest of.

Kanji shrugged, lifting his hands defensively. "I dunno, man. She's your girl—" He stopped, then clenched his fists. "Man, quit grillin' me. She's prob'ly jus' lost in her closet or somethin'."

Naoto snorted, and looked angrier than Kanji had ever seen—which was just mildly miffed, really, but it was still off-putting.

Especially because it almost looked like Naoto was trying not to smirk.

"Doubtful. We planned today two days ago. She certainly had enough time to dress." Naoto drew a small notebook from the folds of his jacket — one of those blue trench coats with all the pockets and buttons — and opened it midway. "When was the last time you saw the girl in question?"

 _Girl in question_ made Kanji feel like a stranger in the conversation. "Wh-Rise, right? We still talking about her?" Naoto just held his gaze. "R-right. Yeah, yesterday, last night, we were on the phone and we were talkin' 'bout stuff and she invited me here…"

Kanji felt his cheeks flush slowly at his scrambling words, but Naoto didn't seem to notice; he only shifted his eyes between his notebook and Kanji, but the lack of visible que made Kanji think he hadn't said enough yet.

Man, this felt _way_ too much like an interrogation.

"A-and, like, I saw her from my room. L-like, not like-!" Kanji waved his hands around. Quite suddenly he felt like if he kept going like that, Naoto would be suspicious of him. "Like, from my window, through hers. We-we live across from each other, and sometimes when she doesn't wanna leave her room but she wants to talk to me we do it like that. Like, call and…see…each other. Through the window."

There was feeling stupid, and then there was feeling Kanji-stupid. And, even then, there was feeling Kanji-stupid in front of a straight-faced, no-nonsense Naoto.

It took glaring somewhere leftward and clenching his jaw, but Kanji managed to shut up before he added a fourth level of stupid. Even to him, it sounded like he had something to do with Rise not being there, or even that he was going around messing with Rise right in front of her—

Well, he didn't know what Rise was to Naoto, or what Naoto was to Rise, and really, _really_ didn't know what Naoto was to Kanji. But he sure as hell knew what Rise was to Kanji.

Kanji let that small amount of certainty into his voice. "Listen, I ain't been up to anythin' wrong with her, we just talked last night and I haven't seen her since. She's prob'ly just late or something, or maybe she's tryin' to find her phone and that's why she's not picking up." And why she hadn't bugged him with bubbly texts to join her, that was a bit unusual, almost made Kanji back out.

Naoto only nodded, eyes on his notebook as he wrote — what, Kanji didn't know, couldn't even guess. He couldn't even figure out how a simple hang-out became a frickin' crime scene.

Finally, Naoto shut the notebook and pocketed it. He levelled Kanji with an unreadable stare. "Regardless, it's obvious she won't be arriving. I should take my leave."

As Naoto turned to leave, Kanji's thoughts nearly jumped out of his throat — _well, y'know, since we're here anyways let's hang around for a bit, I dunno, she'll show eventually, we'll chill until then, whatever_ — but he choked on them and instead coughed a few times. It at least got Naoto to stop and look back at him.

"—I mean, yeah, tha's cool. I'll let you know if she shows." _If she doesn't let you know first_. "So…yeah. I'll-I'll see you around."

And for a moment, Naoto paused, like he had to process his thoughts. Then, "Take care of yourself, Tatsumi." He nodded once more before turning and walking away.

* * *

" _Rise here! Sorry about missing your call. Leave me a message and I'll talk to you later!_ "

It was the first time Kanji ever heard the entire message. Usually, he'd hang up somewhere around the 'missing' and she would get back to him soon enough.

Now, he was just hung up on the 'missing'.

Rise was missing. Hadn't showed for three days, wouldn't pick up her phone, didn't come to the class they both took — Statistics, they both hated it, but it was damn hard enough alone, so they never missed a class — and Kanji was heading across the street to her dorm as a last resort.

Rise lived with three older girls: Ebihara Ai, Kanji knew her as one of those piranha girls that Rise clashed heads with; something Chie, tough, meat-loving girl Rise was more or less chill with; and Amagi Yukiko, who had been a friend of Kanji's when they were younger.

Kanji wanted to say he avoided Rise's house because Ai reminded him of all the girls who'd treated him so cruelly, but it was more because of Yukiko: they both grew up in the same small town, got along pretty well as kids. His family's textile shop provided kimonos and curtains and the like to her family's inn, so they always had to wait around with each other when the parents started talking (and talking and talking and _talking_ ).

It usually lead to them playing Family or having mini tea parties, or just talking about pretty things like clothes and flowers. Maybe it was hanging around Yukiko that made Kanji think it was okay with everyone to be, well, how he was.

That last snag was part of why they drifted apart, but Kanji eventually pushed everyone away after his Dad had—

Kanji realized he had been standing in front of the door for at least a full minute. As soon as he did, he jammed the doorbell in thrice without thinking — if, against all hope, it _did_ turn out that something had happened, his thug-looking self staring creepily at the girl's door wouldn't help his case much—and tried to look as natural as possible.

He only had to wait a few seconds before the door swung open, someone shouting, "Easy on the doorbell, big guy."

Short hair, loud voice, green jumper: it was the Chie girl. Kanji shuffled, kicking himself for not planning this ahead of time.

But he had rushed for a reason. "S-sorry 'bout that. I just, I wanted t'know if Rise was home."

Chie eyed him warily, and he saw her grip tighten on the door. "Who's asking?"

"Er, Kanji. Tatsumi Kanji." He pointed to himself, as if that was needed. Still more chill than handshakes, he always thought. Handshakes were just awkward, especially when his hands were always so much bigger than—

"Oh, Kanji-kun?" Chie's eyes widened, but her posture lightened and she opened the door wider. "I know you. From across the street, you two always talk late at night."

It wasn't usually late at all. Well, some nights Rise would wake him up just to talk about a dream she just had, or how the Chie girl was snoring louder than an elephant, or how she hadn't finished an assignment due in the morning and she needed his help even if he was dumber than her.

Thinking about it left Kanji feeling a lot lonelier.

"Y-yeah, sorry 'bout that, I—"

"You don't need to keep apologizing," she said, and then stepped away from the entrance. "C'mon in, it's cold out."

Kanji wanted to decline, but he figured Chie was right, and she probably didn't appreciate having to stand at the door in a light sweater in the middle of November. Instead, he followed Chie in with a, "Thanks."

"Geez, you're a lot more polite than I thought you'd be."

"Wha's that s'pose t'mean?" Kanji muttered, but he knew the answer from a mile away.

"Just that, y'know." Chie gave him an appraising look. "You've got that rebel look and all. I thought you were gonna break in!"

She laughed, and though it wasn't what Kanji had expected, he was kind of glad Chie was so to the point. He liked to the point. No beating around the bush.

Naoto was to the point.

But this was about Rise. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Listen: you seen Rise lately? I can't get a hold of her."

Chie stopped and turned to face him, looking suddenly anxious. They reached the kitchen, and Kanji could see a kettle sitting on the counter. "Oh man, you too?"

Kanji grimaced. "Crap, she ain't here?"

Chie shook her head. "She hasn't been around for a few days now, and the others don't know either. I thought maybe she took a few days off or something."

"No, she would have said something." Kanji dropped himself into one of the dining chairs. "'Sides, me an' her an' someone else were s'posed to hang out a few days ago, she wouldn't have missed it."

Chie perked at that. "Is that someone else that prim boy she's been going out with?"

Kanji wanted her to elaborate on 'going out with', but set the matter aside with a simple, "Yeah, hat an' tie guy. You know him?"

"He's dropped her off sometimes. Been over for tea, too." Chie crossed her arms. "D'you think…you know, since he just showed up and suddenly she's — d'you think he had something to do with this?"

"No," Kanji snapped too quickly. He almost jumped out of his seat, because there was _no way_ Naoto would've done anything to Rise. "He's a good guy, Naoto. He's worried about her too." At least, Kanji assumed so. Naoto hadn't spoken to him since Rise's disappearance, and Kanji had been too nervous and too wrapped up with Rise to strike up a conversation.

Chie eyed him steadily, but nodded all the same. "If you say so. Rise puts a lotta stock in you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's always goin' on about you and all. Talks about you _way_ more than Hat Boy." Chie made to take a seat as well, but stopped when she heard someone coming down the stairs.

"Chie, who are you talking to?" Around the bend came black haired, fair skinned, red-sharp shirted Yukiko. "Is it Ri — oh!"

Kanji waved a hand up, but his mind barely registered it. How was he supposed to be with her? Did she recognize him, even? "H-Hey-I mean, good afternoon, Yukiko-er, senpai..?"

Yukiko hesitated, but she walked up to him — closer than Chie but farther than Rise would have — and held her hands clasp in front of her. "Good afternoon, Kanji-kun. It's wonderful seeing you." She bowed her head slightly, then eyed the table. "Oh goodness, did you just come from outside? I'll bring you some tea. Let Chie take your jacket."

Chie muttered something about 'manager mode', but held her hand out to take his jacket, adding, "But seriously, 'Good afternoon'? 'Senpai'? Am I missing something?"

Kanji shrugged off his jacket and gave it to Chie with a thanks while, thankfully, Yukiko answered from the kitchen. "Kanji-kun and I knew each other when we younger."

Though she sounded quite wistful, Kanji noted that she also seemed to answer pretty vaguely. Wasn't much else she could say, though, was there?

But he wanted to add something, if just to know there was more to it. "We grew up together. Kinda."

Chie, from across the hall, sounded somewhere between skeptical and bothered. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. But we haven't seen each other for a while." Yukiko set down two simple tea cups and a soft drink can. "Rise does talk about you a lot, though, so it's sort of like you're here, too."

"But _she's_ not," Kanji sighed, staring into his tea.

He heard Yukiko sigh, disappointed. "So you don't know what happened to her, either?"

Kanji shook his head.

A pause, then: "I'm worried about her."

"C'mon, Yukiko," came Chie's voice, but without enough confidence. She took the seat beside Yukiko and cracked open the can. "She's _fine_ , she just likes to worry us. I'm sure of it."

Kanji felt like he needed to add something, if only to make Chie's assurance truer. He raised his head, and raised the cup to his mouth. "N-Naoto's prob'ly on the case, and the guy's a genius, so he'll get down to it before you know it."

"Naoto?" Yukiko echoed, touching her finger to her mouth. "Her new boyfriend?"

Kanji spat his tea out, coughing, and felt a hand smack him a few times harder than it had to. He felt his face flush, saw Chie standing beside him and Yukiko eyeing him horrified. "Oh-oh dear, was the tea really that bad?"

"N-no!" Kanji spluttered. "'S pretty great, it-it was jus' hot, yeah? Burned my tongue, went down the wrong pipe, y'know?"

"Oh goodness," Yukiko sighed, relieved. She gave Kanji a few moments to collect himself—his stupid face wouldn't stop burning up, it was definitely the lukewarm tea—and watched Chie take her seat. "Where were we? Oh, right, Naoto-kun. He seems like a real sweetheart—"

Chie snorted before downing her drink.

"—and if you're certain in him, Kanji-kun, so am I."

Kanji didn't feel like he deserved Yukiko's resolute trust. Sure, they got along a few years ago, but they barely knew each other then, and even less now.

But then, he didn't really know Naoto enough to trust him like he did.

"Yeah." Then, maybe because of the confidence of the moment, maybe because he wanted to say it to Naoto, Kanji grinned besides himself. "Listen, I know I just got here, but gotta head out, and...how 'bout we hang out later, catch up an' all?"

Yukiko smiled kindly. "I'd love to."

Kanji scratched the back of his head and stood up a little too quickly. "Awesome, then. I'm looking forward to it."

Yukiko stood as well, smiling even wider.

It was a really pleasant smile, Kanji thought. Different from Rise's — from the very many ones Kanji had gotten from her — in a way that made him think of her.

Man, he might even be starting to _miss_ the girl.

Thoughts like those kept his mind busy until he heard Chie shout, "Hey, ya big lug, if you're gonna leave without a bye, at least don't leave without your jacket!"

"Wh-" Kanji snapped back to reality and found himself facing the door, hand on the knob. "Uh-right, sorry. Jus'-"

"Worried," Yukiko finished, coming up behind him.

On his other side, he heard Chie's muffled, "Or blown away." A moment, then, "Kidding, kidding. Here."

Kanji turned around, and gave Chie and Yukiko a level stare, respectively. They'd barely talked, didn't even get through a whole cup of tea together, but Kanji felt like the circle of people in his life—which was really just two scattered dots before — had opened up to the two of them.

More surprisingly, Kanji found he _liked_ the thought of that.

He _really_ had a lot to think about.

"Thanks, S-" Just a bit of hesitation. "-Senpai," Kanji managed to say, taking his jacket from Chie before turning and walking away.


	3. Chapter 3: Piano Boy Blue

Chapter 3: Piano Boy Blue

* * *

It wasn't so much of a bar as it was a jazz diner with alcohol.

Evening was well in the air, crisp and cold when Kanji arrived at _Chicken on a Stick_. Its blue neon sign shone dull as usual, and the sounds of chatter, laughter, and music floated mutedly.

It was the same as it was two weeks ago, when Rise dragged Kanji along.

Well, dragged was a bit of an exaggeration — weren't very many people who _could_ drag Kanji, literally speaking — because he had come to like attending every and all of Rise's — or Risette, when she was on the stage — performances.

And if there was music here, there could be Risette here, too.

It was a long shot, but Kanji figured that, if Rise hadn't gone missing and was just hiding away for one girl reason or another, she would take refuge in performing.

She was someone else entirely as Risette; but then, Rise could be anyone she was asked to be.

Whatever it was, Kanji just wanted Rise to be okay. Figuring why she wouldn't be could come later, if ever.

It was pretty weird, marching through the double doors without holding the door open for Rise, or struggling to fit through when she insisted to hang off his arm. Weirder still was steering between tables without her telling him where to wait or what to remember to watch carefully because she planned it just for that show and, totally, when she's super famous one day people will want to hear all about these days.

Weirdest by far was getting a clear view of the paint-chipped, well-worn grand piano in the centre of the room just to see Naoto playing away at it.

And hell, did he _belong_ there.

The piano may have been large, but Naoto looked like he fit snugly on the scuffed bench. He matched it, too: pointy-toed shoes conduct the pedals; crisp, black trousers and waistcoat that really _fit_ his figure, y'know; sleeves rolled up just below the elbow like those American celebrities Rise was all over; dark blue tie that match that hat that he never went without; all of it complimented by the piano, made the old thing look brand-spankin' new.

If looks alone weren't captivating, it was his playing.

When Kanji saw him play in the piano room — come to think of it, he made that broken thing look good too, maybe Naoto could fix anything — he played it like he was putting it to sleep.

Here, Naoto kept his — intense gaze? Rise was _spot-on_ — on the keys, his fingers not so much playing them as they were _dancing_ off them. They moved, mastered the solo jazz piece, keeping to a dance tempo with feather-light, quicksilver grace. It sounded almost happy, which was degrees happier than Kanji had ever known Naoto to be, but carried with it enough melancholy to level it, layer it, to echo off the walls.

Kanji was entranced.

Hell, most of the room was, little as they wanted to be. Out for dinner with friends or more, and they get a magic show to boot.

Just the same, Kanji was strung on the harmonies for maybe a long minute more before the piece reached a crescendo, leveled out, and ended with slow-climbing scale.

In the moments it took for the low murmur of the patrons settle over the silence, Naoto stayed statue-still, staring off in thought. Then he shuffled through the sheet music on the music desk, organized them, straightened his shirt, and began the next song—a quick, riff driven piece—like business.

Kanji snorted through his nose. No applause, but that was no surprise, really: even when Rise performed, poured her heart into her singing and her hips into her dancing, she would get a second glance at best, and a few comments that boiled Kanji's blood on a regular day.

Couldn't blame them, even though he wanted to: they were diners, not an audience. The music was just background, mood setting. It was worse that Naoto wasn't a passionate collage girl that demanded good and gross attention, but somehow better that way, too. Less headache to deal with.

Still, as great as Naoto's playing had been and still was, it begged many questions: first of which was _why_ he was performing the evening slot of a chicken-and-jazz place.

But Naoto played diligently, single-minded, and Kanji couldn't find a good reason to just walk up and start talking — that needed a reason, right? Sure felt like it did.

The tip jar wasn't there, and Naoto switched to the next song like clockwork, so Kanji decidedly took a seat, ordered a Midnight Meal, and fleetingly watched Naoto perform, feeling not unlike he usually did in class.

* * *

Well. Maybe Naoto should have been a college girl. Then maybe other college girls wouldn't be whispering among themselves, pushing each other to talk to him.

Kanji was only upset because he needed to talk to Naoto first.

Still, half an hour in, Kanji figured Naoto would take some sort of break soon enough, so he had to make a move before the other girls.

Okay, that came out wrong.

Still, Kanji stood up and, trying to out-brave the chattering girls, marched right up to the piano. His bravery took him only that far, though, and he awkwardly stood as Naoto continued to play, unaware.

Kanji coughed, leaned against the piano, flipped through his phone idly, and nearly made the B-line for the exit when the swing piece came to an ambitious end.

"H-hey-"

"One more, two-and-a-half minutes. I'll join you then."

Well. To the point. Just like Kanji liked it.

Except Kanji didn't like it, somehow. Still, Naoto hadn't even looked at him when he spoke, so there really wasn't much else to do but sit down and order another round of fries that would be served by the time Naoto was done.

True to his word, Naoto played a short melody that went just as ignored as the rest. But the guy still bowed stiffly before he gathered his papers into one neat pile. Formal as always.

As Naoto took his seat across from him, Kanji felt his heart jump to his throat; he _really_ hadn't planned out this conversation, kind of spent the whole time lost in the music.

But the girls' picked-up giggling helped him remember many things at once: lonely high school days, tormenting that drove him away, a bubbly tofu singer that should have been there, too.

"So-hey, Naoto. 'Sup?"

Naoto kneaded his fingers. "I am well, Tatsumi-san. Yourself?"

Kanji gulped, "All right," and was now out of things to say.

Thankfully, the waiter dropped a box of fries between the two of them.

Less thankfully, he left a drink in front of Naoto, adding, "From the ladies," and nodded to the table behind Kanji.

Naoto followed the waiter's direction, gave the giggling girls a bored look, and then returned his gaze to Kanji.

Well.

That wasn't the return-Rise's-affections-in-the-coolest-manner-ever as Kanji expected. Mostly, it was frigid, distant, _Naoto_.

Didn't stop the girls from starting up again with their gossip, but it somehow made Kanji feel better about being in Naoto's company, like he was _preferred_ by him over them.

Less comforting was Kanji's following thought: maybe, it really came down to Naoto liking Rise a lot better than all of them.

Scratch that. Maybe it came down to Naoto liking Rise.

And maybe, Kanji should stop being so bothered by that and get down to business.

"Take some," Kanji said before popping a few fries in his mouth.

Naoto shook his head, then began to stir his glass. "Thank you."

"You gonna-" Kanji caught himself. "-er, what's in there?"

Naoto brought the glass near his nose and studied the contents. "Old Fashioned."

Kanji nodded, but he wasn't a wine connoisseur or a drinker at all. Rise usually avoided alcohol, too, but just by habit. "You can drink first, if y'want."

"I plan to pass," Naoto said, giving a detached look over Kanji's shoulder.

Kanji figured the guy would be tired, but apart from clipped responses, Naoto seemed no worse for wear. Sat up straight as an arrow.

Self-conscious, Kanji pulled himself out of his slouch, and asked as naturally as he could, "So, what'ch'ya doin', playin' here tonight?"

"Performing."

Right, conversation with Naoto was like punching a wall: the reply was painfully obvious. "Yeah, but why? Couldn't you, I dunno, play on campus? Should be pretty cleared out this late."

"The evening shift was open, I reasoned I could use the pay."

Except Naoto didn't seem like the kind of guy who would perform at an almost-bar for quick cash. "Y'didn't leave the tip jar there."

That gave Naoto a pause. Kanji almost took it back until Naoto very nearly, practically, pretty much almost _smiled_. "A fair deduction."

"Yeah, well, it was pretty frickin' obvious," Kanji grumbled before stuffing more fries into his mouth and focusing on that instead of how much a smile lit up Naoto's face—

Dammit, was he blushing? The lights were pretty low, but Kanji ducked his face for safe measures.

Naoto, not-smile gone, picked up the space in the conversation. "What brings you here?"

Right. Kanji swallowed — was his gulp too loud? — and said, "I was checkin' to see if Rise was here. The-uh, the empty slot is hers."

"I know," Naoto said, then beckoned a waiter passing by. "One coffee, black." He looked at Kanji.

"Er, soda. Sprite." Something to wash down the fries and the twisting in his stomach. The waiter left, and Kanji continued, "She hasn't turned up, has she?"

Naoto shook his head.

Kanji propped his head up with his hand, elbow on the table. "That blows. Can't find her anywhere."

It seemed like he was thinking, processing, and Naoto kept his silence for a few beats until he finally said, "What was her reason behind singing here?"

That was definitely a pivot of subjects. "Uh, well, she likes singing, and performing, and stuff. It's kinda her job."

"Was she not studying to pursue a business career?"

"Well, not really," Kanji said, watching the waiter leave their drinks in front of them. Man, didn't Rise already tell him this stuff? "It's kinda complicated."

"I have time," Naoto said simply before sipping his coffee.

Kanji wasn't too sure if this was his story to tell; if she hadn't already told him, did Rise really want Naoto to know? Maybe things like that were fifth-date level conversation, and maybe they hadn't gotten that far.

Wait. Did that mean Kanji _had_ gotten that far?

Nope. Nope, nope.

Kanji shook his head, and when Naoto gave him a plain look, decided he wouldn't think random thoughts if he was talking instead of, well, _thinking random thoughts_.

"She, like-okay, here's the deal: Rise got picked up by a label when she was young, became a sort of idol. Had a manager and everything. But," Kanji hesitated, and took a sip of his bubbly soda for a burst of courage. "They — It was pretty hard."

"As are most lines of work," Naoto said, and Kanji while couldn't ignore the hint of bitterness, he could blame it on the coffee.

"Yeah, I know. But, like, it's a different when you're that young and under that much pressure."

Naoto looked like he wanted to say something equally as bitter as before, but he held his tongue and Kanji continued, weighing each word.

"Idol life's hard, see? Not like celebrities, like-like Nick Jonas and all," and Kanji hoped to any higher power that he had pronounced that right enough, because Rise sure mentioned him enough. "It's a load of bullcrap, really, what she has to do. Weird fans with weird wants, and the working treatment ain't any better."

With a vigilant stare and a flat-line frown, Naoto seemed less unwelcoming than before. "I must confess I didn't know."

"Not many do," Kanji shrugged. "At some point she had enough of all of it, so she went back home to live with her Grandma at the ol' tofu place-er," Damn, it was _weird_ talking so seriously to someone who didn't share a history with him. "She came back to live with her Grandma in our hometown, Inaba. Small place, you prob'ly haven't heard of it."

"Yaso-Inaba, near Okina city," Naoto echoed.

"Yeah, there. So she came back all mopey and stuff, and for a while things kinda got loud with people goin' _Risette this, Risette that_ , pissed the hell outta me." Kanji caught himself nearly growling; it was almost as bad as the bike gang he chased off for waking his Ma. "Er, where was I going with this? Right.

"So Rise lays low and stays low for a pretty long while, and I dunno, our houses were pretty close and Rise likes clothes, I guess. She just starts buggin' me, and she," Kanji scratched the back of his head, looking away. "She got me to start goin' back to school, dragged me to walk with her there and back. Y'know, I'm pretty sure she just wanted a friend."

Mostly, anyways. Rise could have been friends with anybody, but she always acted just a bit _different_ with Kanji, like she didn't need to live up to some sort of expectation from him. It helped that he didn't give a damn about idols and their industry, and that he was just as lonely for different reasons.

Misfits for outcasts, right?

"And it sort of went like that until grad. Not that I went, I ain't one for those sorts of things." Not that he had the reputation to be accepted, Rise's vouching or not. "And, well, Rise wanted to study business and stuff, wanted to get all the know-how so she could go back to being an idol but do it her way. Play them at their own game, y'know?"

"Commendable of her," Naoto said lightly, and it almost sounded like a compliment.

It wasn't until then that Kanji realized he'd kind of just gone on and _on_ about Rise, and he took a massive gulp of soda to wash down the scratch in his throat. Man, it'd been a while since he could just talk like that; how the hell did Rise go on forever and still croon like a canary?

"Yeah, I thought it was pretty cool of her, too. Don't tell her, though, it'll go to her head."

"It stays between us."

Kanji liked the idea of there being something between him and Naoto.

"Well, still a huge gap to make for; she's gotta get her name back out there, so she sings at places like this, and she goes to all those parties and events. Drags me along, too, but s'not like I got anything better to do. But seeing her out there," Kanji's eyes strayed to the piano, and he felt his voice settle low. "She's really tryin' t'make the dream. Made me wanna get out there, too. S'why I came up here t'study: I ain't smart, but I figure I can help the shop if I know a bit more."

When Kanji looked back at Naoto, who watched him intently with fingers steepled, he didn't feel as stupid as he thought he would for being all soppy. Yeah, it was weird, getting sentimental in the middle of a rundown jazz not-bar near midnight, but Naoto didn't look the slightest bit annoyed, and possibly even looked intrigued.

Still, Kanji waved his hands around, as if trying to shoo away the feelings. "But-yeah, that's that. I dunno if it's what you wanted t'hear, but…yeah."

This time, Kanji was sure it wasn't a shadow, and that Naoto really did actually almost-smile. "It was quite a story, but my thanks all the same."

It was okay to feel proud about being thanked by Naoto Shiragane, right? Totally normal. "No prob-" but Kanji stuffed a handful of cold fries in his mouth before he could add _anytime, we should do this again_. Then he choked — _really gotta stop that, Tatsumi_ — and drained the rest of his drink.

At the same time, Naoto adjusted his sleeves and stood up. "I should be getting back to work." He nodded toward the piano before Kanji could as if work meant they could walk together for a bit. Would've been a stupid suggestion, anyway.

"Yeah, 'kay, I gotta head back anyway. T'study." Not really, but he couldn't really reason staying just to watch Naoto — that'd be creepy, right?

"Do you need a drink for the way? In exchange for your time," Naoto clarified smoothly. "A Monster Coffee to keep you up."

"A what?" Kanji asked, pushing his chair in.

Naoto — didn't hesitate, he never hesitated, unless he was being asked to dance by one Rise Kujikawa — and nodded to the glass on the table. "Old Fashion?"

"Nah, thanks, though." Kanji wasn't about to drink a girl's gift of heart meant for someone else.

"Very well, then. I'll keep up the search for Rise-san, as I expect you will, too." Then, as if Kanji actually deserved it, Naoto bowed his head. "Good evening, Tatsumi."

Kanji stuffed his hands into his pockets, and muttered a hasty, "See ya at school," as he stalked off.

Still, hovering by the door, Kanji couldn't help but look back as the music started again, even if he couldn't see the piano from there.

Still really sucked that Rise was missing, and he was still back at square one with finding her, but he could still think that talking it out with Naoto had been the best thing to come out of it.

 _Right?_ he thought before turning and walking away.

* * *

This was that stupid Hanamura's fault. Awful person, always was.

That was harsh, a part of Kanji noted, but the rest of him decided that Yosuke deserved it for being an Olympian-grade pain.

And the dude barely ever washed his own dishes.

Well, Kanji couldn't complain about that when Ichijo — the guy who looked oddly like Naoto — and Ted – the oddball blonde — both neglected to clean up after themselves too, but with them it felt more like forgetfulness than plain laziness, and anyway, Kanji needed a more grounded reason to be ticked at Hanamura than just his loud, rumor-running mouth.

 _Just check out your monitor at midnight, dude,_ he had said, looking excited – and when Yosuke was excited, it was never over something Kanji would be. _Trust me, you'll thank me later._

Kanji wasn't too sure where Hanamura was coming from, but he said it in the same tone he used when he was supremely proud of a joke he made, so Kanji had spent most of the day writing it off as some lame prank to keep him up late, maybe wake up with a lame mustache drawn on his face.

Honestly, Kanji didn't want to humour the guy one bit, but it was almost midnight anyway and if he had his back to the window, he wouldn't be staring out it and feeling awfully alone.

And so, that midnight – a week after Rise's disappearance – found Kanji glaring at a blank monitor with his scowling reflection staring back until it lit up with a dim yellow static.

* * *

 _A/N: Kanji, I would like to think, pays a lot of attention to clothing and details._

 _Also, Ichijo's hair and eyes are_ way _to similar to Naoto's-I might even have a new fic idea. (Plus, in the P4Anime, Ichijo is voiced by Vic, who voices Edward Elric in the English FMA, and Naoto's Japanese VA is the same as Ed's. Long-stretched similarities, ahoy!)_

 _Leave a review and let me know how I'm doin'!_


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